Shield
by fakeditfromthewordgo
Summary: '"What on earth," she said, voice low, "did you think you were doing?" Simon scratched the back of his neck. "Uh. Saving you?"' SimonxIsabelle.


Everything was moving so quickly. One minute she was flicking her whip through the air easily, the next she was knocked backwards as someone launched themselves in front of her, moving her out of the way of deadly claws that seemed to appear from nowhere.

She jumped back to her previous position instantly, eyes darting around to make sure there were no further threats (Jace and Clary had, thankfully, taken care of it) before she finally turned to her saviour. When she saw him, her eyes widened, then narrowed. If they were fighting around Brooklyn, he usually found them at the end of it all, but this was above and beyond anything that he'd ever done before.

"What on earth," she said, voice low, "did you think you were _doing_?"

Simon scratched the back of his neck. "Uh. Saving you?" He sounded uncertain, hearing the deadly undertone in her voice. His eyes moved to Clary, but she looked just as unimpressed.

"I'm a Shadowhunter, Simon." She spat the words out, and Simon stepped backwards as she stalked towards him. He wished she'd put the whip away. "I don't need saving by anyone." She paused. "Least of all by you." Simon blinked, like the words had physically slapped him in the face, for once completely speechless.

Their relationship was new and tentative and undefined, but it was _something_, of that Simon was - had been - sure. Whatever it had been, he had an idea that it wasn't any more, and it was a surprise to him how much that hurt.

She eyed him for a moment longer, before turning around, and striding off.

"Clary-" he started, but she just shook her head.

"No," she said simply, before scurrying after Isabelle.

His eyes fell to the floor, and he jumped when Jace laid a hand on his shoulder. "For what it's worth, I thought it was an excellent jump."

"Shut up."

* * *

She wouldn't talk to him.

Clary, eventually, came round to his point of view, though she still wasn't happy about it. "You know, she's perfectly capable of looking after herself."

"I know that," Simon said, sighing through his hands. "I know that."

She pursed her lips, but her voice was considerably softer when she spoke again. "She's just upset. She lashed out. You know what she's like." Simon groaned, and Clary almost laughed. "It'll teach you to play the hero!" She sighed. "You're not Kick-Ass, Simon."

Simon looked at her, deadly serious. "Well, there's something I've been meaning to tell you-"

"You're _not _Kick-Ass."

"No," he conceded, "but we do both have great hair."

Clary nodded, acting like she was considering this. "Yeah, I'm sure Iz'll love that explanation." Simon's smile dropped, and she finally took sympathy. "Hey. Come on. She'll come around." She paused, pulling a face. "Well, eventually."

He groaned again loudly. "_Eventually_." Clary laughed, shrugging.

"It'd be never if it was anyone else," she said. "I'd be grateful if I were you."

* * *

A knock at the door at three in the morning startled Simon out of bed, groaning and running his hands through his sleep-tousled hair. He waited a moment, just to see if it was some stupid prank, but it rang out again, short and insistent.

Sighing, he stumbled over, and swung the door open. He blinked several times, sure he was hallucinating. She didn't smile.

"We need to talk," was all she said, pushing past him. Still unsure as to whether it was a dream or not, Simon followed her to the sofa in a kind of daze.

When seated, she just stared at him, and Simon swallowed self-consciously. "You wanted to talk?"

"Well, if you don't want to..." She made to get up, and Simon reached out, grabbing at her arm. She jerked back, as if he'd burned her, and he pulled his hand back, stung. "What you did wasn't okay."

He sighed. "I _know_, but-"

"No," she interrupted him. "It was not okay." Her tone was steely, and Simon braced himself for the speech that was sure to follow, remembering that Isabelle's speeches, though not given often, mattered. Instead, her whole form softened. "Don't you get it? We've trained for years. Even if we're hurt, one rune will sort us out. That doesn't work for vampires. We don't even know how to treat you."

"Izzy-"

"Shut up," she cut him off. "Simon, I can get hurt. That's okay. I've been hurt, and I'm here, right? But if anything happens to you, it'll kill me." She said it so matter-of-factly, so simply and easily and shortly, that Simon almost missed it. But she stopped, just for a moment, composting herself. "I'm not saying you can't fight, or that you're incapable, or that you're not my equal in every way, but Simon, you can't just jump into our battles like that."

He reached out a hand, fingers fitting to the shape of her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," she said. "I'm not kidding, Simon. If you want to fight with us, let us know, and we can try and sort something out." The promise wasn't exactly empty, but there was no weight behind it - it didn't bother Simon, who wouldn't want to fight anyway. "But, otherwise, I can't deal with it. I'm never scared. Never. But I was then. You could get seriously hurt, and I'm..." She trailed off, eyes tracing the contours of his face, before squaring her shoulders, visibly turning from his Izzy into the tough Isabelle Lightwood who wasn't fazed by anyone. "I'm not okay with that."

His fingers moved to wrap around her arm, pull her into his lap. Surprisingly, she came easily, burying her head into his shoulder. "Well, I'm already dead, so we don't have to-"

"_Simon_." She pulled back, looking horrified. "Were you listening to a word of that? You. Can't. Get. Hurt." She said it so fiercely, as she did everything, like the words were on fire.

He leaned forward to kiss her hair, interlocking his arms around her waist. "Iz. I'm here. I'm fine. It's okay."

She shook her head. "It's okay _now. _What about next time? I've lost enough. I wont- I _refuse_ to lose you." The words dripped with conviction, and Simon smiled, just ever so slightly.

He moved his arms slightly, shaking her gently. "Izzy. Stop. There won't be a next time." She sighed, all the pent up tension leaving her body with the exhalation, and she fell against him like a rag doll.

"That's all I needed to hear," she said, before kissing him.


End file.
